I took a deep breath and advanced, using the pack as a shield. The first zombie came at me fast but careless, and bounced harmlessly into the chasm. I took a second to smile before the next one attacked. He broke free of the melee and headed straight for me, moving in a wild spasm.

I braced myself as his rotten body fell against the pack, pushing me back slightly. His eyes were level with mine, blank and expressionless, yet cold and hate filled. Immediately he bit into the fabric, forcing his head forward. I twisted my arm hard and ripped the teeth from his mouth causing him to release a horrible gurgling shriek, before I planted my foot into his knee and sent him tumbling into the darkness.

We were close to Black now, a few feet away, I could see him snarling and biting, huge gashes in his body and flaps of skin hanging loose from his bones. Suddenly the pack pulled to the right, and I lost balance. I felt Kaatje grab my shoulders as I looked down. The toothless corpse was hanging from the stone trying to pull itself to safety, one arm grasping the free strap. I stepped back, dragging him up. I pulled out my blade with my free hand.

Something crashed into me hard and I fell backwards into the abyss. I expected to fall forever as I felt gravity’s pull, but came instead to a sudden painful stop, dangling in space, one arm still looped through the pack.

Monday, December 15, 2014

Jessica Robinson's obsession with zombie films started when she was in junior high. Horror films are a great lens to examine concerns society has about modern science. Let’s face it, when it comes to horror movies, science has a bad reputation. Blind ambition, experimental serums, and genetic experiments are often blamed for the giant monster terrorizing the city or the reason aliens are taking human prisoners or the cause of the dead rising from the grave to consume living flesh.

Using film, literature, and interviews with experts, Robinson examines how zombies portray real-world fears such as epidemics, mind control, what may or may not exist in space, the repercussions of playing God, and the science behind the fears. Robinson's goal is to explore how zombies become a metaphor for our fears of science and what could happen if science gets out of hand.

About the Author

Jessica Robinson is an editor by day and a zombie-killer by night (at least in her books). Since the first time she watched Night of the Living Dead, she has been obsessed with zombies and often thinks of ways to survive the uprising. In addition to her nonfiction book, under the pen name Pembroke Sinclair, she has written YA novels about zombies and the tough teens who survive the apocalyptic world. She has also written nonfiction stories for Serial Killer Magazine and published a book about slasher films called Life Lessons from Slasher Films. You can learn more about Jessica by visiting her at http://pembrokesinclair.blogspot.com/

Friday, November 28, 2014

“…Frosty The Snowman was a jolly happy soul…” unless his once mortal form was infected with an unknown pathogen that’s turned him into a biting machine.Then Frosty doesn't get a corncob pipe and a button nose…he gets two in the head.

Seeking a safe haven from the impending danger of the infected, Governor Steve Landis commandeers a rural peninsula at the top of his state to enact a grandiose plan outlined in the survival guide passed down to him by his great uncle.

People of the Bay Peninsula latch onto the ideals of their trusted official, desperate for sanctuary. But not Terry Riley. This hardened conspiracy theorist had packed up and fled to the north woods to join his son, who, like him does not trust the eager governor. In agreement on the uncertainty of the days to come, they journey to the family cabin to wait out the end of the world.

Try to avoid hypothermia as you plow through this bone-chilling blizzard of flesh tearing chaos, because snow isn't the only thing accumulating on Christmas Eve in this neck of the woods.

Purchase Links

Chapter 3

This Is Not a Test

“I

swear to god, if the two of you don’t settle
down right now, I’ll feed your breakfast to Spencer!” Laney Riley jabbed the
spatula in the dog’s direction. Spencer, their twelve-year-old Labrador,
remained curled by the back door, unaffected by the noise level produced by the
Riley boys and their fed-up mother.

“I’m
gonna end you both if you don’t cut it out,” Laney was forceful, her spatula in
hand as she scrambled the morning meal.

She glanced at the microwave’s
digital display. Seven o’clock in the
morning and I’m already exhausted, she thought as she continued to poke at
the wad of eggs slowly congealing in the skillet.

“Goddamn
kids. Can’t get a moment’s peace around here,” she took a break from stirring
to contemplate pulling the bottle of Jameson from the cabinet above the stove
and putting a little Irish in her coffee. Just the thought of the booze warmly
traversing her insides as it journeyed to coat every frazzled cell brought a
split second of peace, quickly followed by torment. I will not cave to the temptation of self-medicating, she thought
as she pulled the bottle of Xanax from her sweater pocket. I will not drink, I am not my father, she insisted. Just half of one, just half to take the edge
off. She popped the pill.

She flipped through the TV channels on the
small kitchen set. Why does the same news
report have to be on every station, she protested internally as she perused. A
few people are sick, it gets hyped, the media incites panic, and violence
breaks out. Crap, I sound like my father-in-law.

“Finally, a local friendly face,” the
morning news team provided a much-needed sense of familiarity.

“This
just in,” Cap Bozeman clutched the latest report in his boney hands. “We’ve
just received word dat there’s a state-ordered closure tuh-day for all Bay
Peninsula county schools due to a health scare.”

Laney
looked at Cap. “You’re the one having a health scare: pretty pale and thin
today, Mister newsman.”

“That’s
awesome. A few people in the deepest
recesses of the world get sick, so they close school here. A few kids get a sore throat… now the boys will be home all day raising
hell.” Laney dropped her head in defeat. Best
keep to routines, she thought as she tried to find some strength before
summoning her sons for breakfast.

She
reluctantly made the announcement, “School is cancelled.”

They
chanted in unison, working up a lather, “Whoop, whoop! All right, free day,
free day…”

“Hush.” She held her palm flat,
extended in that all-too-familiar stop position. “Would you please go get your
sister, it’s time for breakfast—and be nice about it.” She worried they’d do
something to set her off. I don’t need
her lathered up too.

As
the boys worked their way toward the staircase, Elle worked her way across the
front porch, pulling off her shoes to creep more quietly up the front steps.
She winced as the cold wood hit her bare toes. Thoughts of Josh swirled as she
cracked open the door. Amazing night… Mom would be pissed…she won’t find out.

Now
perched on the first step, they turned and watched as their older sister snuck
in. She was disheveled. Her clothes were crumpled and her long dark-blonde hair
was matted and sticking up in the back.

She set the shiny flats on the tile
beneath the coat rack then lifted her finger to her lips. She ran her other hand
past her throat in a slicing motion.

Ian
and Sean nodded; they instantly understood that they should keep quiet or she
would kill them.

With
a judgmental finger pointed in her direction, Ian jumped from the step, headed
toward his breakfast. Sean followed suit, chuckling quietly at the state she’d
slunk home in. He added a few obscene gestures as he thrust his hips.

With
her hand raised to hit her obnoxious little brother, Elle smoothed her hair as
she walked toward the kitchen. With great focus she tried not to look
suspicious. Sean ran ahead, wanting to avoid his sister’s wrath.

“Boys,
did you get your sister?” Laney started toward the front of the house to
investigate. “Oh, there you all are.”

The
kids filed into the kitchen.

“You were so quiet, I didn’t think
you did what I asked.” Too quiet, she
thought as she served the eggs.

The three Riley children sat at the
kitchen table, stoically chewing while Laney stared distantly out of the
window. The sun had risen, but the deepening
gray of the sky promised snow. Flurries from the day before had dusted the
short mountain range that erupted from the back of the property. I hate the cold and the woods, Laney
thought as she surveyed the landscape. I
miss the city.

Elle flipped open the laptop and perused the
Internet, hoping to further lay off her mother’s suspicion by trying to act
normal.

The click of the keys brought Laney
back from her daydream and drew unwanted attention to Elle.

“Your hair’s a mess.” She eyed her
daughter. “And weren’t you wearing that yesterday?” Her irritation was now
limited by the warm buzz of the medication.

“I
overslept. I just grabbed clothes off of the floor and threw them on when the
brats came to my door. I haven’t had the chance to brush my hair yet,” Elle
searched her mother’s face for acceptance.
I think she bought it.

“I
think you were out all night. I think you snuck out to see that boy again and
your brothers caught you at the front door. I’ve sent them to get you for
years, and they’ve never completed the task that quietly or quickly before.”

“That’s
crazy,” Elle tried to hold her ground. How
does she always know? She was amazed
by her mother’s intuition.

“I
guess I’ll just have to interrogate your brothers, then.”

Not
wanting to make eye contact with their mother or sister, the boys looked straight down into their breakfast as
they shoveled quietly.

Elle
lifted her feet under the table, poking them both in the shins. Just a gentle reminder to keep your mouths
shut, she nudged, as she dug the tip of her toes into their legs.

They
feared their sister, but they feared their mother more. Elle’s punishments were
painful but swift. A punch to the arm or
a pulled ear were a couple of the tools in her bag of tricks, but their mother,
well, she had long-drawn-out punishments that would stick. She went for what
really hurt, their fun.

Laney
walked up behind the boys and placed one hand on the top of each of their
heads, her eyes locked on her daughter. The computer screen was lighting Elle’s
youthful face as Laney peered at her from behind the boys. She ruffled her
sons’ hair, Sean’s brown locks in her left hand and Ian’s blonde in her right. She
spoke at the back of their heads, her gaze locked on Elle. “If you value
hockey, or video games, or watching television, I suggest you both get ready to
talk.”

All
Sean did was glance, eyes only, ever so slightly to his brother, looking for
that familiar agreement to roll on their sister. That tiny movement was all their mother needed.

“Uh-huh! I knew it! You were out all
night doing god knows what with that boy. Why do you insist on making me crazy?
Are you trying to get pregnant and ruin your life?”

“Ahh
man, you two and your stupid twin telepathy.”

The
boys stood mid-shovel and backed away from the table. “Sorry, sis,” they
vacated the kitchen.

Laney
glared at her daughter; the stress of the morning had built quickly. Once again
she faced the digital display on the stainless steel microwave, which was
mounted above the induction cook-top.
With her hands planted firmly on each side of the stove for support, she
eyed the numbers: 7:20 and already on the
verge. She studied her reflection in the microwave door. With
professionally tousled hair and covered in the finest embellishments available
for purchase at the local mall, her polished exterior was no indication of the
mess that squatted within. She’d struggled, the last year or so, with some
emotional issues. Her court-appointed therapist had suggested she visualize a
gauge, “let’s call it your snap gauge,” she’d offered. Laney Riley stood in her high-end kitchen, visualizing the needle
on her snap gauge, which was already in the orange, as she struggled with the
stress of her rowdy sons and the promiscuity of her teenage daughter.

Elle, who at seventeen had the attention span
of a gnat, had returned to surfing the Net.

“Mom!
Mom, come see this, look what I found on YouTube.”

“You know I don’t like to watch
anything on there, and besides, you shouldn’t be watching it either. I think
restriction from the computer and a week of being grounded is on your
schedule.”

“No, really, it’s crazy.”

Laney approached her daughter. “Move
over a scosche would ya’, my ass is too big—I’ll hang off the end.”

Elle slid over in attempt to provide
enough bench for her mother’s behind. “I can’t believe this footage.”

“What’s that? Oh my… is that a man?”

Mesmerized, they watched what
appeared to be an African man in the midst of what seemed to be a series of
seizures. He was lying on a dirt road, the fine dust clinging to his skin; it
gave him a ghostly appearance. Several villagers had gathered around the poor
soul. None of them came to his aid; they just kept their distance, simply
spectators to the events that were unfolding before them.

Convulsions
ripped through him in waves, every tendon in his body visible as his muscles
tensed under the extreme strain of the violent episode. Dark, thick blood began
to run from every orifice, cutting a path through the dust on his skin as he
shook and flailed. With his back arched and his head thrown forward, he gurgled
and groaned through his clenched teeth.

Laney was suddenly overcome with the
impulse to shield her daughter’s eyes.

“What the hell, Mom?” she swatted her
mother’s hand away from her face. “I’m
seventeen, you don’t need to protect me.”

“It doesn’t look fake to me.” Elle
re-opened the MacBook with every intention of viewing the video.

Laney couldn’t help but take one more
peek herself. I’m sure if I really
concentrate, I’ll find proof that it’s fake. “He does seem to really be
suffering,” she was suddenly uneasy at the thought that whatever was happening
to him could be real.

Once again they were sucked in,
mesmerized by what unfolded before them. They both watched as he underwent this
horrifying and seemingly real metamorphosis.

“You know,” Laney began to explain to her
daughter, her head tilted to the side as she contemplated, “It kind of reminds
me of those lycan movies… like he’s shifting.”

With his hands open and his palms
facing skyward, he lurched and writhed as though he were pleading for divine
intervention.

“Is that the sound of his bones
cracking?” Elle gawked as his form twisted on the screen before them.

The bent and tensed fingers broke, each
snapping loudly under the intense strain of the relentless spasms.

He was suddenly still, his joints
bent and locked into configurations now more animal than human. His teeth were exposed to the gums, his mouth
drawn into a snarl like some unknown force had pulled back his lips.

“Holy shit!” Elle cried. “You don’t
think that’s what all the talk’s been about lately, do you?”

Laney cringed. “Don’t let your
brothers see this.”

Just when they thought it was over,
he popped up, lunging forward; the crowd scattered.

Startled, they jumped, the intense
moment palpable even through the computer screen.

With great speed and agility, he
moved, as he swept a man to the ground and tore into his flesh with his jutted
jaw and extended teeth. He snapped, his head popping back and forth from his
now distended neck. The camera kept filming as this now-rearranged man mauled
an onlooker. Flesh was torn from tendon, as bits of tissue and sinew stretched
from prey to predator, each tear followed by a gush of blood.

Unable to contain his horror, the
filmmaker gasped with his heavy British accent, “Oh my god!”

The creature, now crouched on all
fours, snapped his head, and turned in the direction of the camera. That’s when
the filming stopped.

“What did we just see?” Laney sat
mired in disbelief.

Elle was emphatic in her response. “I
think we just saw a guy turn into something and then eat another guy.”

“Nonsense. I won’t believe it…I
can’t. It’s just a farce, special effects.”

“Well, I’m convinced,” Elle crossed
her arms at her chest.

“Convinced of what,” a familiar voice
called from the kitchen doorway.

Laney turned to find her
father-in-law, the shock of his presence plastered on her face. “What’re you
doing here?”

Sue Riley, (Nan to the kids) crossed
her arms and tapped her foot, already striking her judgmental posture.

Laney eyed her in-laws and then the
dog. “Good job, if it was an intruder we’d all be dead.”

Spencer was still sleeping soundly,
his nose stretched and pressed against the crack under the back door.

“My gut was telling me to flee Vegas.
Weird news reports, brownouts, watering bans, felt like they were building up
to something, made my ball hairs tingle, I didn’t like it. So I packed Ma into
the car and started the drive north. I figured if the shit was going to hit the
fan, this was the place to ride it out. I mean, could you imagine trying to
survive out in that desert once the system broke down. The goddamn highway
would be littered with bodies for miles. No water or air conditioning—certain
anarchy.”

Elle harassed her grandfather. “Is
this another one of your conspiracy theories, Pop?”

Now worked up, with his eyes glossed
over, he flexed the tendons in his neck while his stiff and wiry gray hair
stood at attention. It was unwavering as he flailed and gestured (in his
typically violent fashion) while he explained his theory.

“No. You know they never tell you the
whole story; trying to control the masses, manage the chaos by keeping us in
the dark, only out to save themselves. Why do you think they try so hard to
discredit people who’ve had encounters?”
His thin but muscular arms tensed as he made air quotes. “And even if they
don’t discredit them, they make them come off as crazy.”

The five o’clock shadow that coated
his tanned and wrinkled face darkened the deep creases activated by his overly
animated expressions. “Besides, it seems we got here just in time. If I hadn’t
listened to that little voice telling me my government was lying to me, I
wouldn’t have been able to get into town. National Guard vehicles were setting
up a checkpoint.”

“What? What are you talking about?
Why would they be doing that?” Laney’s anxiety multiplied. First the video, now a checkpoint, what the hell… With her hand now
jammed into her sweater pocket, she rolled the pill bottle through her fingers,
the sound of the powdery white pills tapping against the amber plastic a
soothing lullaby for her tired nerves.

“To keep people in, or something else
out. Probably whatever illness, or virus, or whatever’s been mentioned on the
TV lately. Where is my son?” he transitioned abruptly as though it just
occurred to him that he wasn’t present.

“He’s already down in his office. The
ever-pressing needs of his job, I guess.”

Doolin Riley had left his station in D.C. when
he was granted a virtual position to move his sick wife to a quieter setting. So
now he analyzed his slice of the bureaucracy from his basement office.

Laney wished he were upstairs now;
she didn’t think she could deal with the in-laws alone. (They made her
self-conscious).

Both rail thin, she felt judged by them for
her size and the size of her kids. They weren’t fat by any means, just thicker
than Pop and Nan who subsisted on coffee and cigarettes.

Suddenly a high-pitched alarm blared
from the television, cutting through the momentary lull in the kitchen. Laney
clutched her chest, startled by the sudden noise.

“This is the emergency broadcast
system. THIS IS NOT A TEST.

Please stand by.”

A clock appeared. It began to tick
away; its digital numbers flipped rhythmically.

“Kind of cruel to make us wait like this,
isn’t it?” Elle was now clinging to her grandfather for comfort.

“My guess is some official will appear when
this clock is done counting down, and tell us how they plan to protect us from
whatever it is bearing down on us.” With his hands on his hips, Pop broke into
his sarcastic voice, which was just like his regular voice but high-pitched and
mocking. “They’ll probably say something like “stay in your homes,” or “come to
us, we’ll help you.”

Laney glanced at the computer, then
at Elle, and then at her mother-in-law who was standing in the doorway, her
judgmental arms still crossed.

Her blood pressure began to rise, along with her
anxiety. We did just witness some terrible illness
transform a man into something unmentionable. There’ve been vague reports of
illness and some hysteria in the far reaches, but wouldn’t they tell us if we
should be concerned? Wouldn’t someone warn us if there was a situation? Pop is
crazy. It’s only been what, a few days since the first report. What could
possibly move that fast? She stood quietly as she contemplated, rolling the
bottle, until the needle on her snap gauge drifted out of the red and
comfortably back into that zone between yellow and orange.

“You should see this video on the
computer.” Elle beckoned to her grandfather. “It’ll make you believe.”

“Is that what you were talking about
when I walked in—well, make me a believer my dear girl. Show old Pop what the
media has neglected.”

Elle hit play, once again enduring
the horrific transformation, in hopes that her grandfather would believe too.

“Kind of looks like those movies
where a guy turns into a werewolf for the first time.”

“That’s what Mom said, except more zombie than
werewolf, maybe.” She turned her head to the side while she tried to decide.

“No such thing,” Laney was unwilling
to accept any such analyses. “There is no such thing; you are talking about
movie nonsense. Fiction!”

“Clearly he was infected by something,” Pop
posited, “who knows what, and, if they do know, they aren’t telling us. Hey,
maybe there are other videos.”

“There,
click on that one.” Terry Riley was shoulder to shoulder with his
granddaughter, eager to see what was next.

“It’s
the same, but it’s so fast, they are turning so fast…” She was suddenly
terrified. Elle looked to her mother, concern plastered on her young face as
she watched those things attack and their victims spring up just moments later,
they themselves now changed.

“This
isn’t just an illness… some freak occurrence. This is meant to spread. It’s the
form they’ve taken, the neck…the jaw… they are built to bite, to transmit. This
is intelligent design.” With a shudder Pop nodded, sure of his observation.

“Design
by whom?” Laney had to doubt the theories of her father-in-law. He was
notoriously given to bouts of conspiratorial whimsy.

Nan shot her a look of disapproval,
clearly defending her husband.

“Don’t
start with me.” Laney was now on the defensive herself. “I refuse to entertain
you when you’re hostile.”

Trying
to ignore the rift between his wife and daughter–in-law, he explained who was
responsible. “Nature, science, the goddamn government, who knows; but they are
perfect machines, designed to attack, to bite, to spread.” He reiterated his
earlier observation.

“Didn’t a guy recently get high on
bath salts and then try to eat someone’s face off on the street?” Laney was
still trying to rationalize any scenario but the one they were faced with.

“Yeah, but you have to admit,” Elle continued
to plead her case, “it seemed like he died, right? I mean he convulsed and
stopped breathing before he popped up. The way he was crunching, you’d think
every bone was broken; how was he still moving?”

“That’s what I saw,” Pop interjected.
“I mean, Christ, he, he was more creature than man by the time he jumped up.”
With the palm of his right hand he vigorously rubbed his bristly hair. “Looked
like a howler; I don’t know what explains that.” He stood with his hand to his
gaping mouth, for once in his life speechless. “One more time. I have to see it
one more time, just so I can really absorb it.”

~ About the Author ~

G. Nykanen was born and raised in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. This small, rural land mass seems to cultivate a wide variety of colorful characters who provide a plethora of inspiration. The Point, Nykanen’s first novel, is filled with nuances of these local characters and the landscapes one might find in the north woods.

Well traveled thanks to her husband’s government career, she has lived in Europe and many of our United States over the last twenty years. She has recently returned home, moving back to her beloved Upper Peninsula where she resides with her husband and three children.

With The Point now completed, she will continue working on her next novel, Accumulation, along with continuing to develop other stories in the works.

Giveaway

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Happily Ever Afterlife

Revisit your favorite childhood fairy tales...with a paranormal twist. Eight classic stories rewritten by eight talented authors with one common theme, they all feature the undead. From angels to vampires and ghosts to zombies, you'll be sure to fall in love with the classics all over again and quickly learn that even the undead can have a happily ever after.

In the Belly of the Wolf by Amanda Carman

Don't talk to strangers. Don't stray from the path. If you do, the wolf will eat you. Once swallowed, you will be trapped forever in the dark and musty limbo of the belly of the wolf, a larger and more crowded world than you ever suspected. You can't blame him, though. After all, wolves will be wolves.

The Glass Coffin by Emmalyn Greyson

When Marianna's stepmother betrays her by having her turned into a vampire, she must flee home and the love of her life. Darren, her werewolf lover, believes he's found a cure. Will it lead to heartache or happily ever after?

Hans and the Best Day Ever by G.L. Jackson

After a seven-year apprenticeship with the Boss Lady, Hans decides it's time to go home. Accompanied by Gabe, the two boys make their way back to the house in the woods where they hope to find Hans' mother. Gabe is never at a loss for words but Hans is always quick to act on what might either be a fantastic idea...or the worst idea ever.

The Baron and the Firebird by J.A. Campbell

In the depths of the Russian wilderness, Baron Pyotr Vasilyev does his best to care for his people but his long years weigh heavily and he's beginning to lose his taste for life. The only things that keep him going are his devotion to duty and his magical cherries. When his cherries go missing the thief turns out to be the Firebird. The desire to hear her sing one last time drives him through the centuries.

Clara and the Coon by M.K. Boise

Clara is born the height of a quarter-an abomination to the village of Fankfret. On the outskirts of town, she's left to die in a hole that's the size of a teapot. She soon learns her story is far from over though. Getting eaten by a raccoon is just the beginning.

Blood Borne Pathogen by Shoshanah Holl

Javier is too young to be waiting for death, but in the hospital battling late-stage AIDs there isn't room for much else in his mind. A mysterious woman begins visiting him and they form a strange friendship. Aurora only comes to visit after the sun goes down, leaving long before dawn. On the Day of the Dead, they both face the choice between life, death...and what comes after.

In Spite of Fire by Tilly Boscott

Alice's husband, Henry, died, leaving her to wander the world alone, searching for a way to bring him back. When she stumbles upon village gossip describing a place where ghosts dwell, she sets off to find her lost love. Instead of her husband, she discovers a ghost with eyes of fire, keen on the contents of a ragged tree. Alice clambers into an adventure of fear, darkness and true love.

The Angel by Troy Lambert

Abel is a poor urchin, trying to survive on the streets with only his wits to protect him and a tiny garden of struggling flowers to bring him pleasure. Zach is a young boy struggling in the fight of his life against the blight of cancer who wants to see the flowers of spring one last time. It seems inevitable that these young souls will soon leave the earth. But what awaits them in the beyond?

** In Support of the Boston Children's Hospital:
Troy Lambert, author the The Angel, will be donating 50% of his Happily Ever Afterlife royalties to the Boston Children's Hospital. Untold press has pledged to match his donation. J.A. Campbell, author of The Baron and the Firebird will also be donating 50% of her royalties! Pick up your copy today and support a great cause!**

DRAGONTHOLOGY

Enter the pages of the Dragonthology. No single story has ever been great enough to contain the mystical, wondrous creature known as the dragon. We assembled the greatest draconian tales and put them between the covers of a single tome to satisfy your hunger for everything dragon. Seven magnificent stories, ranging from science fiction to mystery, await you within.

The Case of the Bloodstone Dragon by G.L. Jackson

A washed up has been, Private Investigator Clark is down to his last $100. That is, until the night a mysterious femme fatale walks through his door weaving a tale of intrigue in hope of recovering an artifact steeped in mystery and danger. What follows is a raucous ride through a little known human and dragon history, played out on the streets of New York City.

Unto the Breach by Jason Andrew

Jonathan Heller uncovers an unusual secret during one of the bloodiest campaigns of World War One in the middle of horrific trench warfare. Can he convince an ancient dragon that humanity is worthy of life during their darkest hour?

The Dragon of Sullivan Hall by Marian Allen

A dormitory full of fun loving female students, an angry red dragon with a litter full of hungry whelps, and a particular student of Irish descent. This won't end well for the dragon.

Egg Hunt by Jay Wilburn

A lonely smuggler must make decisions he never dreamt possible in the darkness of space to elude capture and protect his precious cargo of dragon eggs. When one of them hatches, it threatens to damage his ship. Can a person change enough to save a ship, a dragon, and himself?

The Clan by Troy Lambert

Dragons return to the earth and humanity enslaves them with the last remnants of technology of their dying race. Now the technology of old is fading. Will the dragons be able to rise again? Will the humans declare war, or will a peaceful solution be found? It all rests in the hands of an ancient dragon, and a lowly shepherd and his clan.

Dragon Seeks a Wife by Sandra Graves

What happens when a dragon falls ill and is told he will die in a year and a day unless he finds his one true love? The only thing a dragon can do. He sets out on a quest to win the hand of the perfect mate for a dragon–the daughter of the king. Aided by a Quetzal bird sorcerer, he begins his quest. An old fashioned fairy tale with a Meso-American twist.

Darkness Taken by J.A. Campbell

In a land where children are warriors and the only adults are mythical creatures, all are called to fight the Darkness. Til and her dragon partner, Heliodor, complete the perfect Welcome Ceremony, but their joy is short lived. The Dark has slain a unicorn and taken her foal back to the Darklands. Can Til and Heliodor venture where none go and rescue the young unicorn?

FLASHY FICTION AND OTHER INSANE TALES

(Volumes 1 & 2)

An anthology of the strange, bizarre, and just plain weird.

Zombies, vampires, ghosts, and ...crickets? Try a taste of writing from two very different fantasy authors. Flash stories are super short and perfect for when you 'just have a minute'. This anthology contains 15 stories from authors Sean Hayden and Jen Wylie. Run the rampart of emotions in this exciting mix of tales. From humor to twisted, there is something for everyone.

Unicorns, zombies, devils, dark whispers, teddy bears, and ...fireflies? Try a taste of writing from two very different fantasy authors. Flash fiction stories are super short and perfect for when you 'just have a minute'. This anthology contains 15 stories (both flash and longer short stories) from authors Sean Hayden and Jen Wylie. Run the rampart of emotions in this exciting mix of tales. From humor to horror, sweet to twisted, there is something for everyone.

Sunday, September 7, 2014

DARK SACRIFICE by Angie Sandro (ARC Review)

"The makings of a beautiful Gothic Romance, just a little too jumbled and the heroine needs to grow up."

Synopsis -

A GIFT AND A CURSE

Mala LaCroix sees dead people—really. After using her psychic gifts to catch a killer, she's locked in a psych ward and must strike a deal with the devil to secure her release. Apprenticed to a dark arts practitioner, Mala vows to free herself and save her loved ones from danger. But she doesn't know who to turn to when her crush on Landry Prince turns into something more serious.

A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH

Landry has sacrificed everything to protect Mala. A near-death experience changes him forever, and now he, too, possesses supernatural powers he doesn't understand. Mala and Landry must band together to defeat the dark forces—both human and otherworldly—who would use their abilities for evil. Even as they fall for each other, they must prepare to battle for their very souls . . .

Took me quite a while to write this review, mainly because I had quite a bit of conflicting emotions in regards to the story-line. Did I not like it due to the fact that I did not read Book 1, Dark Paradise? Or did I just really not like the plot, or was it just the main character? While this book was very well written, descriptions were dead on and the author did know much of comings and goings in the Vodoun world, the plot in itself could use a little more help. Not to mention the main character could use a definite reality check and grow up. "With great power, comes great responsibilities." That saying is true with more than just super heroes. When you wield magic as powerful as what Mala LaCroix holds within her very soul, one cannot just dabble into it, begin a drastic spell, then stop in the middle and say, "Oh, never mind", especially when dealing with other people's souls.

Mala LaCroix is the last living LaCroix, a family of extremely powerful Voodoo Queens. As such she is next in line to the thrown when her Great Aunt passes on to the other side. An aunt whom she has promised to be an apprentice to, and learn how to wield her dark art. But when the time comes she is less than enthused. But with enemies from both sides of the grave out to kill her, maybe going with dear old Auntie isn't such a bad idea.

Landry Prince has escaped the hands of death once again. Only this time, he hasn't come back alone. There is a demon living beneath his skin, devouring his soul with every breath he takes. And the only one he can rely on to rid himself of the demon in the Voodoo Queen herself, Magnolia. The question in that scenario, at what lengths will she go? And how can he keep Mayla safe when he can barely even trust himself?

When the action and magic happen, they do indeed make an impression. Too bad there isn't enough of the good to outweigh the bad. And the supposed 'bad' characters are the ones who keep to story flowing. Just as Magnolia tried to explain to her bullheaded niece, there is no such thing as black magic, either the wielder has a black soul or a light one. The decisions you make and the reasons behind them are all that truly matter. Anyone who practices voodoo, or has any roots in the craft, art or religion, may want to skip this read, because what Mayla does in the end will make you want to make a special little doll with her name on it. This book reads more like a Y/A than a N/A, if not for the sex. The characters are not really at the maturity of someone in the twenties, more like teenagers who still don't know which way is up. With some tweaks, this series does carry a lot of potential. As it stands now... This book cannot be read as a stand-alone, too much needed information is lost without having read the first book.